Crowns of Silver: Medley on the Dawn Treader
by Joy
Summary: "Why yes," Edmund replied, as coolly as though he was sitting in court at the Cair, "it was a drinking song." Lucy poked him. "Be nice, Ed," she chided. "Oh sit down, Caspian." Edmund & Lucy, sibling banter and angst.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: the Chronicles of Narnia belong to Jack…(C.S. Lewis) Various ballads, drinking songs and verses will be credited at the end of the tale, so as not to ruin any surprises and because I'm easily amused.

* * *

_The sea! the sea! the open sea!_

_The blue, the fresh, the ever free!_

_Without a mark, without a bound,_

_It runneth the world's wide regions round;_

_It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;_

_Or like a cradled creature lies._

The sky was clear, the _Dawntreader_ was sailing swiftly away from the setting sun and Lucy was singing.

The young queen was perched beside the railing on the poop deck, lost in the moment. Caught between sea and sky, the wind slowly teasing her hair from its braids, it was easy to imagine she was back on the _Splendour Hyaline_. She sang quietly; barely aware that the rest of the world even existed but needing to express the sudden rush of emotion.

The song was old when she'd first learnt it, by now she supposed it counted as truly ancient.

From her perspective it had been almost two years since she'd had reason to sing it but the verses slipped from her lips without hesitation. She sang of a sailor's love of the sea, the happy disregard of storms and tide. She sang of the dullness of life ashore and how the sea was like to a mother.

Lucy took a deep breath after the fourth verse and nearly stumbled over her words when a deeper voice joined her song. Turning so fast her braids slapped her in the face she saw Edmund grinning as he leaned on the railing beside her. She smiled back brilliantly, unable to restrain a little bounce of delight.

Between Lucy's title of Queen of the Eastern Seas and Edmund being their best diplomat, the pair had done a lot of sailing together during the Golden Age of Narnia. As she grew older, Susan had to be careful who she visited in case they thought she was favouring their suit, while Peter never felt quite right leaving the borders of his country (unless it was to defend said borders, which was another thing altogether). In some ways their long exile from Narnia had been the High King's worst nightmare; he'd left Narnia in a Golden Age and came back barely a year later to find it crawling out of a dark age.

Edmund wasn't one to sing as a performance but long hours of sea travel could wear at even his patience and Lucy was a master at getting others to play with her. She'd suspected for years that Edmund actually enjoyed singing with her but she knew he'd never admit it. Lucy's smile took on the hint of a smirk; he wouldn't be Edmund if he was open with his feelings and she liked him just the way he was. They didn't need to speak to communicate.

_I 've liv'd since then, in calm and strife, __  
Full fifty summers, a sailor's life,__  
With wealth to spend and a power to range,  
__But never have sought nor sighed for change;__  
And Death, whenever he comes to me,  
Shall come on the wild, unbounded sea!_

They finished the song together and spent a moment grinning foolishly at each other. Lucy felt the urge to hug him and he must have seen it in her eyes because he quickly dropped the grin and started talking.

"Not bad for something we haven't sung in over a thousand years," Edmund said, leaning back casually against the railing. "Maeve would be so impressed by our memories."

"Closer to two years," Lucy corrected, "she wouldn't have been impressed by _that_."

"I don't know…considering how long it took for you to memorise the words…" Edmund smirked, "and all the different ways you messed it up…I'm still not sure how you ended up with a line about juggling bears…"

"It wasn't juggling bears," Lucy said primly, "it was _dancing_ bears riding dolphins." She pulled a face at her now snickering brother. "Oh shut up, Ed. I was only a little girl at the time," she said, ignoring the fact that she still appeared to be a little girl. "And how long did it take for you to stop blushing over the word breast?"

"Why do you keep bringing that up?" Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Because it was funny."

Edmund glared but it was a feeble attempt that did little to hide how much he was enjoying the familiar banter. "I still think you only insisted on learning that song to torment me."

It was Lucy's turn to snicker at the old complaint. "I learnt it because Maeve was always singing it…or humming it. I think it was her favourite…" Her voice trailed off as the memories threatened to swamp her.

"Drinian doesn't sing that much," Edmund mused, his own memories painfully near. How often had he leant upon similar ship railings with Lucy at his side, bantering between songs?

"He doesn't set things on fire either," Lucy noted.

"Well, it's a long voyage, give him a chance," Edmund caught his sister's eye and they shared a half-hearted smirk.

"She would have loved this," Lucy sighed. Gazing out over the waves she watched the rapidly darkening horizon. "Sailing to the utter east."

"The adventure would appeal to her," Edmund said after a moment, "but I don't think she would have ever gone."

His thoughtful, serious tone was so much King Edmund the Just that Lucy was startled to glance at her brother and see him so young. For the space of a heartbeat she was painfully reminded of her own too young body.

Life as an English schoolgirl was so structured and full of expectations that the part was easy to play. Lucy could pretend to be a schoolgirl the way the girls around her pretended to be princesses. Unlike them, she even had prior experience at her role.

The thought of growing up a second time had horrified her at first. With the support of her brothers and sister, and her own cheerful nature, she'd come to see it as a second chance. And this time she wouldn't have a quarter of the weight of an entire nation on her back. It also wouldn't be nearly as lovely or satisfying but she tried not to dwell on that.

"Really?" Lucy cocked a brow, one hand lifted in a vain attempt to brush her hair away from her face.

"Maeve had the sea in her blood but she was married to her duty," Edmund observed. "You remember what she was like. It took a royal order to get her past her borders; we're lucky Cair Paravel was right on the coast or she never would have visited."

"She thought the Terebinthian fleet would flounder without her," Lucy tried to smile but her eyes were sad.

"I wonder…" Edmund trailed off then shook his head sharply as if to cut off his thoughts.

Lucy knew exactly what he'd been wondering. _Did_ the fleet flounder without Maeve? How did she react to their disappearance? How did she die? Was it like in the song 'on the wild unbound sea'?

"I miss her," Lucy whispered, choking back a sob. She still loved Narnia and all of the wonderful new friends she'd made but oh how she missed all of her _old_ friends! The friends she'd spent fifteen years building relationships with.

Edmund bowed his head under the weight of his own memories. All of the members of his Narnian Intelligence Service, the Men and Animals who served with him in battle, his trusted valet, the ancient head cook at the Cair who'd taken his sweet tooth and abhorrence of Turkish Delight as a challenge… He sighed and glanced over at Lucy. His stomach twisted at the sight of his most cheerful sister so near to tears.

"You know," he began, forcing himself into a more upbeat mood. "I don't think 'the Sea' _was_ Maeve's favourite song."

Lucy frowned in puzzlement. She could tell her brother was trying to cheer her up but had no idea where he was going with this.

"There was another song she sang just as often…with a lot more enthusiasm."

"Ed…"

"It was shorter…and it needed props," he looked about briefly and sighed in mock resignation. "Well, no props but I _know_ that you know it."

"Edmund?"

"Oh come on, Lu, you remember," he nudged her and grinned and started to sing.

_Ale is both Ceres,  
__And good Neptune too,  
__Ale's froth was the sea_ _  
From which Venus grew!_

Lucy's tears vanished as she choked back a laugh and took up the next verse. Edmund was correct; she did indeed know Maeve's favourite drinking song.

_Ale is immortal; __  
And be there no stops, __  
In bonny lads quaffing,  
Can live without hops!_

Both barely restrained their mirth as they sang the last verse together, complete with wild gestures, just as they had in the old days.

_Then come, my boon fellows,  
Let's drink it around;  
It keeps us from the grave,  
Though it lays us on ground!_

Lucy collapsed into giggles with Edmund chuckling beside her. With skills usually used for diplomacy, the Just King hid his mirth behind a serious expression and turned to his sister.

"You know, I'm suddenly feeling thirsty…"

The pair cracked up.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

...

Caspian found them seated on the deck, shoulders against the railing still laughing.

"You should have seen the look on her face!" Lucy was giggling.

Edmund snickered, "I'm sorry I missed it but what were you thinking, drinking with dwarves?"

Lucy nudged him with her shoulder, "they started it!" she retorted. At that point Edmund caught sight of Caspian and with a nudge of his own and a nod of his head, pointed him out to Lucy.

"Hello, Caspian," Lucy greeted cheerfully. She felt like she needed a tankard of something to toast him with but had to make do with an enthusiastic wave.

Caspian approached the ancient sovereigns as cautiously as he would a rabid bear. Edmund restrained a snicker at the other King's behaviour; clearly they'd unnerved him with the content of their songs.

"Was that a _drinking_ song?"

"Why yes," Edmund replied, as coolly as though he was sitting in court at the Cair, "yes it _was_ a drinking song."

Lucy caught the glimmer of amusement in Edmund's dark eyes and poked him. "Be nice, Ed," she chided. "Oh sit down, Caspian," she invited, "we don't bite."

Caspian sat. Their songs had travelled further than their quiet conversation (the ship was only so big, after all) and he was still processing the fact that King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant were as at home singing _drinking songs_, as they were singing ballads about the sea.

When he'd first met the ancient Narnian sovereigns three years ago, he'd expected them to be older. He'd actually said as much to the High King and had received a verbal smack-down that revealed that Edmund wasn't the only sarcastic member of his family.

It hadn't taken Caspian long to see that even though they might physically be children, the Pevensie siblings _were_ great Kings and Queens. They were natural leaders and warriors of legend (he hadn't actually _seen_ Lucy fight but she was said to have ridden to the wars and he was too much of gentlemen to ask her.)

All of this he had accepted and understood. It was only now that he realised they weren't just kings and queens in the bodies of children; they were _adults_ in the bodies of children. Oh, they slipped up sometimes but biology is a hard thing to ignore, what with all of those hormones.

Edmund and Lucy might _look_ younger than he (even more now that three years had passed for him and only months for them) but they were both several years older. Sitting beside them in the shadows as the first lanterns were lit, Caspian could easily believe that he was sitting with a king and queen in their twenties, full of stories and experience and funny little anecdotes.

"Caspian?"

King Edmund's voice shook him from his reverie and he waved off the concern. "Perhaps you should not be singing the glories of ale on a ship that does not have any?"

Lucy laughed and Edmund smirked.

"His Majesty has a valid point, O my songbird sister," Edmund spoke in the High style that came as easily as breathing after so many formal occasions. He'd never particularly liked it but always found it great fun for teasing his siblings. "Your celebration of the glorious hops must sadly cease forthwith. Perhaps you would gift us with a song in praise of rum instead?"

"Nay, O most musically discerning brother," Lucy replied with equal formality, "I shall leave such a task to you who know such charming songs far better than I." She then poked her tongue out at him and laughed.

Edmund turned to Caspian. "She's exaggerating," he assured him seriously, his dark eyes were merry. "Lucy knows _just_ as many drinking songs as I do." He reached over to poke his sister and she squirmed away from being tickled.

"Oh, sod off, Ed," Lucy smacked his hand away while Caspian watched the sibling banter trying not to laugh. "I need to redo my hair, why don't you sing with Caspian?" She was removing the ties from her windswept braids as she spoke.

Edmund gave her a look that said quite clearly, _are you mad, woman?_ Lucy ignored it and started finger combing her hair.

"I've done my singing for tonight," Edmund declared. "How about you, Caspian?"

Caspian appeared rather nonplussed and looked blankly from one ancient sovereign to another.

"Oh yes, Caspian!" Lucy said, pausing in dividing her hair into equal sections. "Please sing, or perhaps a story if you'd rather not sing." With a brother like Edmund, Lucy was accustomed to dealing with people who'd rather talk than sing. She also didn't want to embarrass Caspian if he wasn't a good singer.

"A tale?" Caspian latched onto the suggestion so eagerly that Edmund had to fake a cough to hide his chuckling. "What would you like to hear?"

Lucy was tempted to say 'something I don't know', but that would lead to a long discussion about what she _did_ know and possibly devolve into a conversation on the subject of how much songs and tales were altered over a thousand years.

"Your favourite," Lucy said. "I'd like to hear something you love."

Edmund spared his little sister a fond smile at her words. She was both thoughtful and clever; Caspian was well educated enough to know something interesting and everyone enjoyed sharing their favourite stories.

By this time a fair amount of the crew had gathered about the royal trio. Not many of the men were born sailors (Telmarines and their fear of the sea) but the song about the sea had stirred them, while the brief drinking song had been shocking and amusing. Now they had a chance to hear something from King Caspian himself. Amazing.

"Well, I always liked Alban's works," Caspian began, glancing uncertainly at their audience. It was one thing to perform in front of two dear friends, it was quite another to do so before an entire ship's crew who saw you as Their King.

Edmund and Lucy nodded, Lucy a bit absently as she was busy rebraiding her hair. Neither of them had any idea who this 'Alban' chap was but judging from the crew's response he was quite popular.

"Well, my favourite section was always the seventh book," Caspian explained.

"A most noble choice, Majesty," Reepicheep declared from his position above their heads on part of the rigging.

Edmund noticed that even Drinian and Rhince were present and wondered absently where Eustace had sulked off to. Lucy finished her braiding and settled against his shoulder. Her eyes rested upon Caspian as he began his tale.

It quickly became obvious to Edmund and Lucy that this 'Alban' was a Narnian equivalent to Homer, 'writer' of the epics poems concerning the Trojan War and its aftermath. Like the poem of Beowulf, it needed to be _performed_ and not merely spoken (or even worse, read to oneself in which case it becomes dull and full of confusing phrases).

Lucy gave a little start when she realised that Alban's focus was the Narnian Golden Age. She told herself not to be silly; their reign _was_ legendary, of course there would have been stories. She'd just have to think of it as one of those Arthurian romances her schoolteachers thought she was too young to read.

Several verses in she realised that the comparison was a bit too close to home. Just like the stories of Camelot, this one was also about the fall of a Golden Age. It was beautifully worded and Caspian performed it well but she could feel Edmund's muscles tense and she reached for his hand.

They made it nearly all the way through the tale that way; Edmund tense and Lucy clutching his hand. Then they reached the final verses.

_Fear no more the heat o' the sun,  
Nor the furious winter's rages;  
Thou thy worldly task hast done,  
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;  
Golden lads and girls all must,  
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust._

_Fear no more the frown o' the great;  
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:  
Care no more to clothe and eat;  
To thee the reed is as the oak:  
The sceptre, learning, physic, must  
All follow this, and come to dust._

Edmund felt Lucy's grip tighten until his bones screamed in protest. His jaw clenched with his own efforts to remain in control. Over a thousand years later, on a ship headed to the utter east, his subjects were saying goodbye to their lost kings and queens.

Caspian finished the poem after two more verses and basked in the approval of his audience. Doctor Cornelius had risked a lot, sharing the works of Alban with the young prince. The ancient Archenland bard's writings were banned in Telmarine Narnia but that had only encouraged Caspian's interest. He'd come to appreciate them even more after meeting the bard's main characters.

He glanced over at the people in question and froze at their expressions. Lucy looked like her best friend had died. Edmund looked so cool, calm and remote that Caspian just _knew_ it was merely a façade.

A moment later, Caspian paled as he realised exactly what he'd done. Alban's works were masterpieces but according to Doctor Cornelius, the bard lived at least a hundred years after Narnia's Golden Age. Edmund and Lucy hadn't needed to hear about their reign (barely two years ago from their perspective) from the point of view of someone who knew full well that their Golden Age faded into nothing with their disappearance. Aghast at his own blunder, Caspian glanced about, desperate for some way to fix things or at least distract the crew.

Edmund noticed Caspian's reaction and took a few deep breaths trying to regain control. Yes, after those last verses he wanted to cry but he _hated_ crying. Worse than that, _Lucy_ looked like she was about to burst into tears and he hated _her_ crying more than he hated _himself_ crying. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to distract Lucy from her threatening tears and to get his mind away from what he'd just heard.

TBC...

* * *

AN: There's a music video that goes with this chapter, a youtube search for 'Narnia Cymbeline' should find it (seriously, I just tried it and it was the only hit), or you could always find it at my livejournal (the link to which is on my authors page.) I'm sorry I can't just stick the link here :(.

In response to the...confusion as to how long the Pevensies ruled, the LW&W doesn't specify but I found two sites that said it was 15 years. Wikipedia had references, so I went with that (shrug).

Please keep reading and reviewing. Reviews are treasured and petted in a fashion that isn't at all disturbing...really. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

...

"A moving performance, your Majesty," Drinian saved Edmund from speaking. "But if a simple sailor may join the ranks of story tellers tonight…" Caspian gestured for him to continue with a grateful smile.

Edmund gave a silent sigh of relief and patted his sister's hand; partly in comfort, partly to encourage her to slacken her grip before she broke his fingers.

Drinian's tale was a ballad, starring a pirate queen and a ship of the Calormen navy called the _Inexorable_. Edmund recognised the name but wasn't too surprised; Tisrocs seemed to have a limited supply of ship names and were constantly reusing them. It had made it horribly confusing to keep track of their fleet and he'd complained about it to Peter (at length) more than once.

_She cruised the blue waves over and sailed on many a lee;  
At length a wicked pirate they chanced for to see;  
She bore right down upon her, and hailed in the Tisroc's name,  
They knew it was a pirate ship, a pirate of great fame._

Lucy's grip on Edmund's hand loosened and she lifted her eyes to share a look with her brother. The ballad was starting to sound strangely familiar.

"_We've got you now, you cowardly dog, you ugly, lying thief;  
What makes you rob and plunder, and keep our Tisroc in grief?" _  
"_You lie, you lie," cries Captain Ward, "such things can never be,  
I've never robbed a Calormen ship, a Calormen ship but three."_

Lucy was gaping now. How often had she heard Maeve jokingly (and not so jokingly) refer to the three Calormen ships she'd taken. The real humour of course was that with the way they reused names, it was actually rather more than three ships.

Edmund and Lucy continued to stare at each other for the next verse which recounted threats exchanged and Captain Ward, the Pirate Queen's mockery of the Calormen sailors.

When Drinian reached the final verse, they switched to staring at him.

_They fought from six that morning until six o'clock at night,  
And then the _Inexorable_ began to take her flight;  
"Go home! Go home!" cries Captain Ward, "and tell your Tisroc of me,  
If he reigns king upon the land, I'll reign king on the sea."_

The sailors applauded, always happy to hear of Calormen sailors defeated, even if at the hands of a pirate queen.

Lucy finally found her voice, "oh! That's her but it's _not_ her."

It was now everyone else's turn to gape.

"I beg your pardon, Majesty?" Drinian asked. "Have you heard this ballad before?" His surprise was understandable; thirteen hundred years was a long time for a ballad to last intact.

"Well no," Edmund took up the explanation, "but we knew 'Captain Ward'."

"You knew the Pirate Queen?" Caspian interrupted. Did all legendary figures know each other? Maybe he should start dropping names…find out who else they knew.

Edmund sighed. Lucy frowned.

"She wasn't a pirate," the queen said.

"Who was she?" Drinian asked. He enjoyed most of the Pirate Queen tales despite his general hatred of pirates; probably because she never really behaved like a pirate in any of the ballads.

Edmund and Lucy shared a look. How hard would it be to speak of their long dead friend?

"Maeve Ward was Captain of the _Eumenide_ and Admiral of the Terebinthian fleet," Lucy explained.

Her audience was suitably amazed; for Drinian it explained away a lot of niggling details in the ballads.

"The song was right about her hating Calormen; especially slavers. But she would have laughed to be called a pirate," Lucy said.

"No," Edmund disagreed, earning a sharp look from his sister, "she would have set fire to your mast, _then_ laughed." He smirked, "Maeve was like that."

Lucy laughed but it was a watery sound, caught between grief and mirth. Edmund let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders. He aimed a stern look at Caspian.

"How about we tell you some of the original stories another night?" the Just King suggested in a voice that was unfailingly polite but also very much a royal command. "It would take far too long to do it justice tonight and I'm sure we've distracted the crew enough."

"Of course," Caspian agreed quickly, "Captain, please forgive us for disrupting your schedule," he asked Drinian.

"It was no imposition, my King," the captain turned to the two ancient monarchs, "on the contrary, on behalf of the crew, and myself, I would like to thank your Majesties for the enlightening evening."

"You are most welcome, Captain" Edmund inclined his head gravely. Lucy nodded her agreement.

Drinian bowed, collected Rhince with his eyes then scattered the crew with a few orders. Caspian left with an enthusiastic Reepicheep declaring how much he'd like to fight some pirates himself.

Lucy sighed and settled into her brother's shoulder. She would be strong later; right now she needed some comfort. Edmund pulled her closer. Like Lucy, he tried and failed to get the last line from Caspian's performance out of his mind.

_And renownéd be thy grave!_

* * *

TBC... (one chapter left!)


	4. Chapter 4

...

The sky was dark beyond the cabin window, the _Dawn Treader_ was sailing swiftly towards where the sun would rise and Lucy was curled up with a roll of parchment and muttering to herself.

"All follow this, and come to rust-no wait – _dust_."

"What _are_ you doing?"

Edmund's voice – grumpy from lack of sleep – startled her so badly she nearly fell off her bunk.

"Edmund!" she hissed. A quick glance at the parchment showed that she hadn't accidentally torn it. "What are you doing up?"

"You were thinking too loudly," he complained. Easing the door closed behind him, he shuffled over to her. "I couldn't sleep."

Lucy rolled her eyes but was quick to move over, making room for her brother to curl up beside her.

"What's this?" he plucked the scroll right out of her hands, leaving her annoyed but long since resigned to this sort of behaviour. "The works of Alban?" He shot her a hard look that called her sanity into question.

"Caspian leant it to me," Lucy explained. She gave her brother a cross look, "I had to corner him. I think he was trying to avoid me (which is an impressive feat on a ship this size and don't think I don't know what brought it on). Alban really _is_ his favourite; he brought it with him on the _Dawn Treader_."

Edmund scowled. "Caspian _should_ be avoiding you," he said, toying absently with the scroll in his hands. "His Archenland bard may be brilliant but what was he thinking? He might as well have read our own funeral service to us!"

Lucy sighed and shook her head. Her hair, loosely braided from sleep was tossed over her shoulder. "It broke my heart too, Ed," she admitted.

Lucy really did know him too well, Edmund mused. "Then why are you reading it? _Now_?" He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Actually, I'm trying to memorise it," Lucy corrected, "you know how we can never bring anything physical back with us."

"Can jolly well leave things behind though," Edmund muttered, he'd gotten into so much trouble for 'losing' his new torch so quickly. He blinked, focusing on the rest of her words, "Lucy…"

"Why?" He nodded. "_Because_ it broke my heart. Edmund…you're right; Alban _is_ brilliant. He gave us the gift of our people saying goodbye…and maybe those last lines can serve as _our_ goodbye to _them_. Peter and Susan need to hear it."

Edmund sighed. "We never did have a wake, did we? It would have meant admitting that everyone we knew…even the babies…were dust." It was a staggering thought, made possible to bear only by the knowledge that it hadn't happened all once but rather in the fullness of time.

"None of us wanted to say goodbye," Lucy said, leaning her cheek against Edmund's shoulder.

"So, a wake then?" Edmund decided, turning his thoughts from sorrow to possible action. "We're going to need a lot of alcohol for all the toasts…" There were after all, a great many people to be remembered, a number of them dwarfs who had some very particular traditions involving alcohol.

"Ed…we're not old enough to drink…" Lucy trailed off and smirked faintly up at him. Their age dichotomy was worse for her, yet she usually dealt with it better than the rest of them. She was the only one who could ever joke about it.

Lucy was used to letting other people take charge; or at least letting them _think_ that they were in charge. Edmund knew how to subtly get his way, even if he _was_ irritated. Susan was ever practical and focused on rebuilding her influence in the only ways left to her; social climbing among her school peers. However, as a woman among girls, she often struck her teachers as 'a bit too grown up for such a young age'. Peter was stuck as a High King amongst hormone-ridden teenaged boys. Often aggressive, irrational or merely immature, it was a trial for him to be seen as one of them.

"You just don't want the hangover after getting through all of the dwarf-toasts," he teased.

Lucy poked him. "Says the man who _never_ gets hangovers. I think even Peter gets jealous sometimes."

"The High King can out-drink a dwarf clan leader," Edmund began stuffily, "he _deserves_ the hangover that earns him."

"Now who's jealous?" Lucy giggled.

Edmund ignored her and started to unroll the scroll, "so were you going to memorise this thing or not? Where were you up to?"

Lucy grinned and leaned closer to answer him.

* * *

Eustace moved away from the cabin door and slowly worked his way back to his own hammock. Even with the silence of night he hadn't been able to hear all of his cousins conversation but it had been enough.

Had they been on Earth he wouldn't have hesitated to throw open the door and mock them but this wasn't Earth. This was Narnia, (or more accurately the Eastern Sea) and everything was different here. It was frightening (though he would never admit it), he couldn't go home (and no one was even trying to help him with that), nothing worked the way it should (imagine his silly Pevensie cousins as royalty and he a mere tagalong!), the food was weird (he'd read enough books about the Age of Sail to know what passed for edible in those days), he was powerless (nothing he'd learnt from school or his parents had any use in this barbaric world), and he was utterly lonely.

Eustace was miserable and a firm believer in the 'misery loves company' school of thought. After hearing about the happenings earlier that night, he'd been all set to tease his cousins about the ridiculous ballads they supposedly starred in.

Caspian was elsewhere when it was time for them to sleep and Eustace got as far as opening his mouth before he got a proper look at Edmund's face. Eustace wasn't one to imagine things, so he'd been forced to admit that the schoolboy Edmund was gone; in his place was a warrior king who made thunderstorms look tame by comparison.

Eustace had fallen asleep while still in shock. Hours into the night he was wide-awake and unable to stay in the uncomfortable hammock (honestly these Narnians were total barbarians!). A few bruised toes later found him eavesdropping outside Lucy's cabin. He'd been hoping she was alone so he could tease her but on hearing her speaking softly to her brother, he settled in to listen instead.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, of perhaps his mind was still a bit asleep but he found himself unable to summarily dismiss what he overheard. His cousins as time travelling royalty was ridiculous, as were their claims to be years older than they looked. But then, he _had_ fallen through a painting in the guest room into another world and… Edmund and Lucy didn't know they had an audience, yet _still_ they sounded so genuinely _sad_.

Eustace was a brat and he was self-absorbed but he wasn't heartless. In the morning he'd be his usual self, because with no control over anything else he'd be as 'usual' as he could. For tonight he'd go back to his cramped hammock in the depths of a tiny primitive boat and try not to dwell on the knowledge that his cousins were memorising their own funeral service.

* * *

The End.

A.N. Well that's it for 'Medley on the Dawn Treader.' Thank you to everyone who reviewed. And now for the song list:

Ballad sung by Lucy & Edmund: _The Sea_ (Barry Cornwall (1787–1874))  
Drinking song: _In Praise of Ale_, (printed 1659 but much older)  
Caspian's poem: From _Cymbeline_, Act IV, Scene 2. (William Shakespeare c.1611)  
Drinian's Ballad: _Captain Ward and the Rainbow_ (Francis J. Child Ballad #287)

I'll put the original lyrics up at my LJ, which includes all the missing verses like the one that made Edmund blush and the rest of the drinking song. Random fact: Maeve's ship the_ Eumenide_ is named after the Furies of Greek myth, who were the avengers of wrong and tormentors of the guilty. Eumenides means "the kindly ones", which is what you called them to get on their good sides. (Cause you _really_ didn't want to get on their bad sides.)

Stay tuned for further adventures of Ed & Lu in "Crowns of Silver: Sir Edmund and the Green Tower."


End file.
